Wolf's Head
by outlaw author
Summary: Robin struggles to come to grips with the reality of what life will be like now that he is an outlaw.


**A/N:** This was originally going to be part of my other story "Trysting Oak," but as I started writing I realized I had more than just a paragraph to say about this point in Robin's life, so it became its own piece. Thanks to those of you who took the time to review "Trysting Oak." I hope you like this one just as much. And thanks to my sister for suggesting the title. And now, without further ado...

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Wolf's Head

Robin crashed through the undergrowth of Sherwood, pursued by the King's Foresters. He did not look where he put his feet nor care whither he was going, save that it was away from those who hunted him. Despite his reckless haste and his apparent carelessness, he leapt nimbly over fallen branches and protruding roots, until after an hour of desperate running he discovered that his steps had led him unerringly to the great oak at the heart of the forest.

He threw himself to the moss-cushioned ground between its ancient roots, his chest heaving in great gasping breaths caused by the exertion of running in panic. As his breathing calmed, so did his mind, his thoughts settling from the turbulent whirl they had been thrown into when the foresters started at him. He lay idly at the base of the oak tree allowing his thoughts to wander, and it was then that the exact nature of his current position dawned on him, then that he fully grasped what the rest of his life would be like.

_Outlaw._

The word dominated his thoughts, for that was what he was now. That was how people would define him: outlaw, wolf's head. A thing to be hunted for money or sport, not welcome where other men were for he was no longer a man and no longer to be granted the rights of men.

No longer could he come and go as he pleased at village fairs. No longer could his cousin Will welcome him to Gamewell Hall with open arms. No longer – his heart broke at the thought – could he see his love Marian. And they were to have been married next week!

In that moment of perception, it seemed to Robin that his entire life had been cut short. His young, hot blood boiled with rage at the injustice of it all, and an inarticulate, half-strangled cry of anguish broke from his lips as he stood and slammed his first furiously into the oak.

In his anger, he did not at first notice the sting of pain across his knuckles and kept pounding his fists into the tree, beating out his frustration at his inability to do anything to change his situation. When the pain _did_ register, he welcomed it. It was a distraction from the pain in his heart, sharp as if someone had taken a knife to it and then twisted it around viciously. His soul bled, and as the pain within him mounted so too did the strength of his furious blows, hammering tirelessly into the solid oak tree before him.

But his despair was so great that rage could not long contain it, and after a final cathartic blow to the old oak, his knees gave beneath him, and he sank to the ground, cradling his bruised and bleeding hands. Great gasping, choking sobs escaped him, and tears streamed down his cheeks. He turned his face to the sky and screamed out all his agony and heartbreak in one long wailing, animalistic cry before bowing his head again and rocking himself silently back and forth.

After awhile he began to feel numb on the inside, and his tears began to slow and eventually stop. What little sensation remained was focused on his hands. Although the bleeding had slowed, there was little skin left on his abused knuckles, and dirt and grit had gotten into the wounds. Robin was sure they would be swollen and likely infected by this time on the morrow, though he couldn't bring himself to care much right then.

And then – he couldn't have said why at the time – he began to climb the oak tree. His maltreated hands screamed at him, but he continued to climb, as high as he could and still perch safely on a branch. For some time he let his thoughts wander, never focusing on one thing for long, and he was comforted by the gentle swaying of branches and the solidity of the trunk his back rested against.

_This tree is ancient_, he realized as he studied the branch beneath his hand. It bore many scars from the passage of time, having survived drought, war and countless other hardships in its long years. They had all left their mark, but the tree had continued to grow, strong and determined in its will to live.

Running his fingers lightly over the bark, Robin resolved to do the same. For sure there would be troubles ahead, and no doubt he would emerge bearing his own set of scars. But he was just as sure that there would be many more springs for him before he reached his final winter.

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**A/N:** Well, now that you've read, let me know what you think. I'm afraid the ending might be a little abrupt, but I'd love to read your comments! 


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